Sure, we had the ability to go outside, but who wants to do all the work? In addition to getting yourself all bundled up, you have to make sure your child is even warmer than you are by putting extra sweatshirts on him, sticking him in a full-body warm suit, wrapping him up in a giant sleeping bag called a "Bundle Me," and finding his hat, socks and gloves, one of which is always missing. The child never loves this process, and throughout is making a face like this one:

And there's plenty of noise that comes along with this face. Once all this is completed, and you're out of breath because you've spent the last twenty minutes fighting with a miniature person and looking for that missing hat, you suddenly smell something, causing you to undo everything you just accomplished. A half hour later, you walk outside, into the frigid cold with no place to go but the local coffee shop, shivering and wondering why you even bothered when you notice that your child's tears have turned into little icicles that are stabbing his cheeks. The next day you don't bother with it all and January wins.
That was last year, the year I became acquainted with the cruel winter hurtle of stay-at-home parenting. It caught me a little by surprise, as I had grown accustomed to eating up lots of time by going on walks during the late summer and fall months. Once I lost the walk, I had to find a way to get through the day and fill the eleven hours I had with him, two of which, thank God, were taken up by nap time. It was no easy task, but I trudged through it with noisy toys, book reading, and wrestling. Eventually we ran out of things to do, but fortunately spring came, and I was only three-quarters crazy by then. This year, I have a special tool up my sleeve: the YMCA.
As you may recall, we became members of the Y in October. We thought Kyle would enjoy his childhood more by learning how to swim...

This part of the YMCA experience did not go so well... that is, until the second-to-last week, when Kyle suddenly started liking the water, even laughing at some points during the swim. By then it was too late to sign up for the next swim class. When we checked, the only class available was a class for older kids, in which Kyle would have learned how to fight sharks and alligators. We didn't think he was ready for that. So now the Y is being used solely as a refuge from January's angry wrath.
The Y has an "open gym" period for kids on Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, during which the gym is filled with toys, slides, tunnels, and mats for kids to use. It's a mini slice of heaven for those of us who stay at home, even if that slice is filled with dozens and dozens of kids running wild and throwing things. For a little more than an hour, I weave around all the little people, tripping over a few as I follow my child, who just likes to run everywhere. It can be loud and a bit overwhelming, but it's also a break from reading "Curious George Takes a Train" again and again. It's an exchange I'm willing to make.


Overall, the gym has been a great experience, and a much-needed relief from cabin fever. It gives us a chance to leave the apartment without freezing. It also gives Kyle an opportunity to have fun and meet other kids. Best of all, there's no water to fear. The only thing Kyle has to worry about are the usual YMCA dangers: flying basketballs and the Village People.
Of course, I don't mean to sound like a spokesperson for the YMCA. I am sure any gym that offered the same kind of play time would be great; the Y just happens to be close to our home. Plus, stay-at-home parents tend to get a little excited about anything that makes the job easier or keeps our sanity in tact. I am especially grateful for our neighborhood's abundance of coffee shops, the existence of easy-to-use strollers, Amazon.com, Netflix, and, most importantly, my good friends Matt and Mickey, who come by almost every week to grab lunch or a beer. Without them, or the Y, I wouldn't stand a chance against the brutality of January. Now, with these forces at hand, I can fight back and safely say that January's days are numbered.
(badum-CHING)
1 comment:
Wow, I'm a little jealous-- it's so important to have a good place you can go when outside isn't an option. We often end up in the mall play area, which isn't nearly as cool as the Y looks like it is.
It's funny, I remember the first time Kent went through a tunnel, and I was equally proud of him because he had been so cautious about it for so long. I was like, "Dude, he has conquered his fear! He's growing up!!" A trophy sounds like an awesome idea. =)
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